


Lovers in War

by Shatterpath



Series: Sassy, Snarky, and Sexy [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Peggy Carter, Banter, Bathing/Washing, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Comrades in Arms, Erotica, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Protagonist, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Sex, Peggy's tornado story, Playful Sex, Trust, Tumblr Prompt, World War II, badass epic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:37:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 13,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3709993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is so much more to the tale of Peggy and Steve; their tale of love and war, of laughter and loss, of pleasure and pain. The more I watched their movie, the more I saw. That seeing became this.</p><p>We pick up with our heroes on the night after Steve has returned to camp with the liberated POWs. Hold on tight!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been desperately wanting to get my teeth into an epic again and just as desperately have wanted to write something for Peggy and Steve, for they hooked me in the first time I watched their film. After just over a year now (I got into the MCU really late!) and getting blissfully distracted by Cartinelli (more on that later!) I finally have a solid start on something truly epic. This will range over at least three years and all that will happen to the characters and their relationships.
> 
> http://ayrki.tumblr.com/post/114802942539/counterpunches-mrs-jamie-wellerstein  
> Special thanks to ayrki for bombing me with this Tumblr post KNOWING I couldn't pass up the bait-- you brat-- and spawning off this ginormous tale. I confess to being a terrible fan at never noticing how Peggy eye-sexes that boy up in this scene and felt the need to apologize to those particular muses with lots of schmoop and hot monkey love.  
> Also to: damiwayne for the gifset and dealanexmachina for the awesome and inspirational tags! They still make me laugh.  
> #AYYY PEGGYs LIKE IMMA RIDE U ALL MOTHERFUCKINNIGHT GOD BLESS AMERICA YAAAAAAASSS  
> #forever mourning the fact that these two couldn’t grow old together#like can you imagine how many times they would use the you’re late joke#and then once Peggy says I’m late instead#and then it dawns on Steve that she’s pregnant and they are having a baby#and he whoops in joy and picks her up and she wraps her legs around his waist#and they are just too happy because this baby is going to amazing and wonderful and kind and smart#and their lives were perfect enough because they had each other but now it’s going to be even more perfect because there will be three#and GOD WHY COULDN’T THEY HAVE BEEN HAPPY TOGETHER#THEY WERE SO PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER (via dealanexmachina)
> 
> This first book will essentially follow movie canon with my spin on it, though you'll notice some veering off and a whole lot of 'educated' guesswork based on various things we know about the characters. Of course, I also took a few flat-out liberties for the sake of storytelling, as will be reflected in the tags. There will be Agent Carter the Series references and some jossing of its canon, but it will all come out in the wash, trust me, I'm good at this.
> 
> Ship notes: There will be **Cartinelli**! It's just going to take me some time to get there as right now, that part of the tale is at least Book Three. There will also be **CartinelliShield** , though even I'm not entirely certain exactly how that's going to play out and can't wait to see what happens! I feel that these three have lots of love to give and receive without being exploited and I'm going to give them that.  
> I'm going to add a note about how marvelous these actors are, not that anyone reading this is going to argue with me! That they sold me so completely on this unconsummated love story is stunning, as I've only recently been able to find an appreciation of het couples, having been a femslash lifer until just a couple years ago. Also, while I'm not bisexual (I'm actually mostly asexual, believe it or not) they need WAY more love then they get and I'm happy to help out! Same thing with the poly folk and as many other shades of sexuality I can work into this tale. I love you all!
> 
> Research notes: I've a bit of a fetish for pertinent details when I can get my grubby paws on them, and this project has been fascinating for that. World War Two is rich and disturbing in itself, much less tracking characters you love through it. I didn't get finicky over too many little things, but wanted some for depth. My personal favorite is the Bedford lorry. If anyone spots lingo errors or anything, do let me know, eh? 
> 
>  
> 
> Notes: As always lately, extra-special thanks with sprinkles on top to Tristan Maikai for everything. For your time, your humor and insight and the thread of sass and assholery that I need to stay in touch with! You'll never know how helpful you've really been. Oh, and the great story you gave me about you and your brother ("So what do I say in a situation like this?" "Ouch.") Now you're immortalized in the Hallowed Halls of Sass.
> 
> PS: Is it wrong that I'm hugely entertained by this being my 42nd fic? 
> 
> *intones ponderously* Life, the Universe and Everything!

The medicos might not be able to physically move him, but Steve was used to following orders and, as much as he was still crazy sorts of worried about Bucky, the way his old pal stared at him was completely unnerving. Besides, the colonel had already told him to 'get the hell out of my damn tent and get some sleep, you ape' but a shower first. The stink of the Hydra weapons with their strange blue fire clung too close to his nose, his skin, his vision. The water pressure was typically lousy, but it was late enough that there was actually some hot water and he scrubbed up with as much pleasure as he could get these days.

Would the brass make him go back to being a dancing monkey? The idea made Steve's skin crawl. The euphoria of really letting loose the gift of this new body given him by science, of being able to save some of his own? To make a difference? It was heady and he wanted to feel it again. Unbidden, Peggy's face swam into his mind's eye, her serious expression in the rain, sending him off so much better prepared than his fool self would have done. 

_"Did you mean what you said?"_

_"Every word."_

Growing still in the trickle of water, Steve blinked water out of his eyelashes, though he really didn't even see the tent around him. The expression on her face, the intent way she always looked at him, unchanged from when his eyeline was below hers, and wasn't that still somethin' else? That hesitant touch to his chest that only registered later when he really got a good look at himself-- and boy wasn't the damn change a shock-- how angry she was when he tackled her out of the way of the car containing the bastard who killed Doctor Erskine, then chasing him down like some kinda comicbook superhero, before being poked and prodded and told he was worth nothing to the SSR but to be a lab monkey.

It still rankled.

The water pouring over his naked skin suddenly went icy and made Steve reflexively leap aside hard enough to tear down the flimsy barrier between makeshift shower stalls and crash to the ground. "Sonofabitch," he growled and recognized the chuckle over by the door.

"Hey, ballerina, you gotta date to keep. Make yourself decent and get your ass over behind the munitions shack. This isn't a cheap message."

Even as Steve struggled to his feet, the guy-- Dugan, wasn't that his name?-- appeared at the chest-high barrier and tossed a towel at him.

"Message?" Steve asked, instantly back in duty mode even as he scrubbed the towel roughly over his head and started moving south. The curl of smile beneath that wacky brush of ginger mustache was pure filth.

"Dunno, the lady didn't say. Kinda think it might be personal though."

Steve's hands slowed as his brain helpfully supplied him with the memory of dark eyes as they stood, face to face with the rescued 107th and most of the camp swarming around them as the storm's eye. 

_"You're late."_

_"I couldn't call my ride."_

Dugan chuffed with amusement again and rattled Steve's memory away from Peggy's words, the way her eyes had raked over him, thrilling him with that strangely possessive heat. If not for the distraction of everything going on around them, would he have leaned in and kissed her? He sure wanted to. He wanted a lot of things and that look he couldn't get out of his head made it sure seems like he'd have a damn good chance and…

The look of pure, male amusement on Dugan's face made Steve flush faintly from navel to eyebrows, though his bark of laughter was strangely warm and he tilted his head at a pile of khaki he'd brought with him. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, golden boy. Which ain't much!"

Amused with himself, Dugan strode into the night, leaving Steve alone again for the moment. Despite the raging storm of butterflies armed with machine guns dogfighting in his guts, Steve's body had taken over again, lunging towards the clean uniform, wadding up his hideous boots in the dirties, shrugging on the filthy, battered leather jacket against the rain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together at last!

For a moment, Steve felt like the world's biggest chump, heart pounding, feet bare in the mud, slicked with rain, looking around for a ghost. Then, there was a flicker of movement his eyes zeroed in on fast enough to almost make him dizzy, as a shadow separated from the rough shack containing the invaluable munitions. Maybe a guy without Erskine's super serum might be unsure, but he knew the shape of Peggy's body, the way she stood, the sound of her breathing. Though the nerves on her were uncharacteristic and as obvious as his.

"You came."

He heard the thrum of fear and urgency beneath the smooth accent and he was pulled in, iron to a magnet. This was Peggy, who had fascinated him from the day she'd stepped up and socked that gorilla in the face when he was bein' disrespectful, who'd smirked and just about hugged him with her frank gaze when he'd been the only one smart enough to simply drop the flagpole to the ground, who'd turned back around as he lay helpless in Stark's machine, to reassure him that she was there for him, no matter what, who'd kicked his sorry ass into doing good, to going out and coming back with hundreds in tow, to live up to what he should be, what he could be, what he wanted to be.

He couldn't stay away, close enough suddenly to feel her heat bleed though his shirt, still disoriented from looking down and not up into her night-black eyes, feeling awkward in this changed body in a way he hadn't in nearly a year.

"Sorry I'm late," he murmured, hungry and helpless, voice a growl. For heartbeats, for what felt like an eternity, it was stalemate, a war of needy gazes and harsh breath before she made a wordless sound and reached up to yank at the soaked hair at the back of his head, a pull he could have easily fought, but it never even occurred to him, and her lush mouth was finally under his, a thrum of naked need in the back of her throat. Dizzy and raw, Steve was suddenly near-overwhelmed, her frame solid and hot in his arms, powerful legs hard around his lower ribs, calloused hands clenched in his hair. There had been kisses from dames, before and after the serum, but nothing to write home about as they'd always made Steve feel like some sorta experiment, but not Peggy. Just as she'd always done, she drew him in, soothed him, focused him. Gone was his nerves, his reluctance, his irritated frustration at being Bucky's gimpy sidekick or the Star-Spangled Man With a Plan. In the heat of Peggy's kiss, the press of her curvaceous body, he was simply the best man he could be.

Not to mention he was suddenly so frightfully horny his guts were cramping up with it.

Involuntarily, his hips jerked into the cold open air beneath her pelvis, locked tight just out of his reach, and Steve moaned lowly in frustration, embarrassment, desire. Peggy ate up the sound and returned it just as softly, biting none to gently at his mouth, pulling hard enough at his wrecked hair that he wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or whimper.

"I wish that I had done this back in New York, so you don't get it in your fool head that I only want you because of this new shape," she muttered into his mouth, voice strangled to sloppy, hips rocking into his midriff and Steve might be a tad clueless, but there were lotsa things bubbling up in his brain that he knew suddenly, and a endless string of things he was suddenly desperate to try with her, this singular powerful woman he'd lost himself to long, long before this loud, stormy night so far from home. "Though I've no complaints."

"Can't argue with you," he whispered back, half aware and self-conscious of the crowded camp around them. "Because I kinda like being able to do this, hold you up so easy."

"Only kind of?" she teased, close enough their mouths still brushed, one hand tracing over his face, his open hand stroking her back, making her squeak when he gripped down hard suddenly.

"More'n kinda."

Oh, he wanted to touch and taste and figure out all the goddamn things Buck and the guys around him always leered about. He wanted to hear that proper voice break and pant, get Peggy's teeth and claws in this big frame, make it both of theirs, feel at home with himself at last.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore writing banter for these two! It flows well for them. Also, I got to use a favorite line from 'Agent Carter' of "Don't be lewd!"

Wrenching her head back, Peggy stared at him with eyes wide and dilated, Steve blinking from the rain in his eyes. "Around the corner," she growled. "Be quiet."

At last, a direct order and a task his rattled mind could latch onto. Never even noticing the thought that maybe he should put her down, Steve shifted Peggy's weight to his left hip, freeing up his dominant arm, dimly wondering where his gun was, reassured that she was watching his back over his shoulder. A couple terse words got them to a middling-sized tent not far from where Phillips held court, the space dim and crowded with trunks and a desk and a luxuriously oversized cot he knew wasn't standard issue. Hell, he might tease her about it later, but for the moment, sank down on a plain chair he fumbled around to sit on, one asscheek not quite making it and Steve having to shuffle awkwardly in his utter distraction beneath Peggy's hard, drugging kisses.

"I swore I wouldn't do something stupid," she whispered, voice pained enough to make the smart parts of Steve's brain take notice through the haze. "But…"

"Hey," he murmured, gentling and stroking her suddenly trembling body. "Hey, don't you know how I adore you? Jeez Peggy, you keep me goin', give me hope, saw me before I was Captain America. I'm gonna love you forever."

Breath catching in something more surprise than sob, she pressed their cheeks together and stroked the curve of his jaw and cheekbone. For it was his facial features that had changed the least.

"Oh, you big idiot, I love you too."

There was no holding back then, hands fumbling at uniforms, Peggy swallowing Steve's apologies at the rending of heavy fabric no once, but twice and she finally slapped his hands away. With all the upper body buttons undone, she reached back to work at the back of the skirt, the jacket and blouse gaping to give Steve an eyeful. There were few luxuries for anyone in the midst of war and that showed up in strange places sometimes. There was no concealing slip beneath the articles of clothing that Steve had seen before, just the snug contraption holding her magnificent breasts trapped as tightly to her body as was manageable. He was hard pressed which was more enticing, the secrets still behind that white fabric or the muscles flexing just beneath the softness of her belly. To intrigued to keep his hands still, he tucked them along her waist, sucking in a hard breath at the silky heat of her skin, always hidden away for propriety.

"Drat this bloody thing," Peggy was muttering, head twisted away as she fought with the zipper on the back of her skirt and Steve grinned as he slip his hands up under the loose blouse and ducked his head to find out what the thin, flushed skin below her heart tasted like. "Don't you dare."

The bossy, slightly irritated growl made Steve snap his head back so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, and his hands would have done the same if not trapped inside her clothes. He did however, nearly manage to unbalance her right off of his lap. Thank goodness for those powerful legs still locked around his hips. He was frozen sure as a rabbit with a dog on it and Peggy was suddenly confused for a moment before understanding dawned. Rolling her eyes in exasperated affection, she left off fighting with the zipper for a moment to grab Steve's wrists and place both big hands over her breasts.

"Allow me to rephrase darling. Don't you dare rip this brassiere. They are a nightmare to procure. Give me a moment and I will happily soak up your touch on my skin."

Lightheaded with relief, Steve was perfectly happy to trace her curves with sensitive fingertips, relishing the chunky nipples that pebbled in response to his touch and Peggy's hissing murmur of frustrated approval. The low sound rose when he indulged in licking her, a wet stripe across the top of her deep cleavage, breathing heat into the confined space there. Completely distracted then, she moved her hands back to his hair as he quickly grew bolder, shifting his hands back to her back so that she could lean back and give him better access.

"I knew you'd be curvaceous under these uniforms," Steve murmured against her skin and Peggy was shocked at how thrilled she was at the thick leer in his voice. "But, wow, you are an excess of riches."

"At least you've bigger hands now," she sassed back, shrugging off the jacket and blouse since he was supporting her weight, and making quick work of the confining brassiere. Steve's low chuckle trailed off as he finally got the eyeful he'd been eager for and was suitably awed.

"You'd've suffocated me before, but damn, what a way to go." 

Unable to stop the burble of laughter, Peggy playfully slapped his scalp even as he bent again to explore all the new territory. "Don't be lewd!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together at last.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm so happy to have finally been able to do this for these beloved characters!

Steve had never been so thankful for his serum-given strength and size as he effortlessly gathered up Peggy's weight in one arm and stumbled over to the cot where a storm of mutual giggling finally got the stuck zipper loosened and Steve shucked his entire upper half bare in one dexterous move. He'd had far too much practice changing in a damn hurry during the dancing monkey tours.

"Go ahead," he encouraged as she hesitated, hand raised, just as she had the day he was so miraculously transformed. "Nobody I want touchin' me more."

"Best not be."

The thrum of jealous possessiveness gave him a thrill again, as did the heat of her curious hands smoothing over the curves and angles of him. For a long time, Steve had been unnerved by how much less sensitive he seemed, rendered nearly immune to temperatures and pain, the nerves in his skin somehow blunted and dulled even as his reflexes took over. Colors had suddenly become achingly intense, smells overpowering, tastes potent to the point of distraction. In time, the extremes had settled as he'd grown more accustomed to the changes and some impassive part of his brain that was hopefully storing up some memories for him made a note to tell Peggy that he wished she could have been there for some of it. But his whole existence was now the slide of her competent hands, cool on his hot skin, curling around his ribs to tug.

The press of her adoring mouth over his pounding heart almost made him sob.

In a loving tussle of harsh breathing, moans, giggling and a few choice words, they were at last bared, snuggled up beneath military-issues blankets and decadently unexpected layers of cotton sheets. It was a firestorm of sensation, hands free to touch everywhere, both of them delirious with the freedom to stroke and taste. Throughout the rising storm was the blissful sense of togetherness.

Steve found his damn fool mouth blathering on even as Peggy's touch made him insane. "Wanted this to be yours, waited forever, wanted… wanted…"

Her hands on that hot, hard ache derailed him completely, hips jerking as the rubber wrapped him up. "No more waiting, darling."

And her touch brought him home, the boiling wet stealing away his breath as though he were scrawny little Steve once again. Powerful legs locked around his hips and she led and coaxed and bossed him about as they got the feel for each other and oh, the sheer, raw lust was amazing, his teeth clenched into her wool blankets hard enough to bite a couple small holes into the fabric, but it was better than he could have imagined because it was Peggy-- his Peggy now-- her body hot and soft and firm beneath him, her cries muffled into his neck, sweet and unexpectedly high-pitched as her iron control bled away. 

Instinct and her direction staved off his higher brain function's nervous chatter, let the primitive parts of his brain ignore inexperience and just wallow in the overwhelming pleasure of being with the woman he loved. Peggy had known from the start that he was special, seen the fire in those electric blue eyes, sensed the hunger in him that went well deeper than the physical. Recriminations left her, inhibition left her, propriety left her, all that was left was need. And somehow, no matter how huge and fierce he had become, this was still her Steve, adoration gentling his dangerous strength, his body fucking her sore but not battered, attuned to her lead as he always was.

Neither could ever be certain who pushed who over the edge that first time, sounds gone animal, Steve's voice growling bass low and almost threatening, Peggy high and sweet and breathless; a feminine trait she really couldn't hold against herself for feeling so damn good. Dizzy and panting, they came back to themselves and if she hadn't blissfully felt like a worn-out dishrag-- and known how Steve healed now--Peggy might have felt bad about prying her teeth out of his neck and the taste of his blood on her tongue. As it was, there was something feral about having actually really harmed him in the throes of their mutual ecstasy, harsh sex sounds drowned out by the welcome storm. Steve hissed and his body twitched, a low sound of what could be lust or outrage when she licked the raw mark she'd left on him, no matter how briefly.


	5. Chapter 5

"God, Peggy," he rumbled in something like happy shock and both of them groaned as she reached down to anchor the rubber wrapped around him.

"Careful," she murmured, voice smiling and lazy in the dark and-- while Steve would have loved to wallow in the heat of her body-- he obeyed her hand, hissing at the sensations.

"How'd we make it over to the bed?"

"I've no idea. Now catch your breath, for I am by no means finished with you."

"That so?"

How Peggy relished the new arrogant note in his tone, how desperately she wanted to see his face in that moment, blindly stroking his smile in the darkness cloaking them. In contrast to the inexperience that she wasn't entirely certain of the veracity any longer, he nuzzled and nipped lightly at her wandering fingertips. "Glad you found me," he spoke softly, leaning close to press kisses to her warm smile. "Well, sent that guy in the hat after me anyway."

"I'm glad you came home."

While not at all a subservient woman-- lord knows Peggy had left enough knuckle prints in her wake-- she couldn't find it in her heart to fuss over the animal thrill of Steve's powerful body heavy over hers. Reverent and lustful, he wandered a hand over her lush curves, soaking up her squirms, the catches in her breath, the faint note of ticklish consternation. There was no hesitance to him in his want and his adaptability lent him quick experience in her pleasures and soon Peggy was panting, pulling at Steve's hair, yanking at him in demand to kiss her longingly, endlessly. Minds awhirl, they were ready again, bodies so eager as to feel sore with want. Steve was happy to oblige, to sink into her heat, her softness over muscle and bone.

"The rubber joh… johnny," Peggy stammered and Steve couldn't stop the grin in response to the familiar slang, unerringly finding the little plastic packet even in the near-complete dark. With expert teeth he had the packet open, but remembered not to unroll it, for this time the prophylactic would be used for its actual purpose, not to waterproof his gear and gun. 

"Gimmie a hand," he groaned, "I don't want to screw up gettin' the damn thing on."

If the raw urgency weren't real and immediate, maybe he would have been embarrassed, but that was far from his mind, Peggy's shaking fingers pinching the rubber at the achingly sensitive head of his dick, his own hand rolling the thing on, rubbing his thumb though her wet heat to line himself up and sink home.

Home.

Wherever she was, wherever he could drink up her danger and smile, wherever he could be like this, her body to his, that was home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing filthy dialog for Peggy is enjoyable in ways I don't really have words for...

Startled awake, Steve was confused and for the briefest moment, alarmed to be in a strange place, naked and sore with wet streaks on his chest and a warm body on his hipbones, hands on his ribs. Sucking in a hard breath, he gaped like a landed fish at Peggy's hot, teasing gaze from among wrecked brown curls, her smile a pale streak in the tent's dim light.

"Hey soldier," she purred, returning her attention to his skin and it was immediately that his consciousness and now his body with it was-- as always-- attuned to her.

Stuttering her name, Steve's entire reality focused to the hot slide of her tongue over his skin, the press of her softest parts heated and slick over the morning boner he was bettin' was gonna be a hell of a lot more fun this morning than usual. The sudden rake of her hard, blunt nails made him yelp with startled hurt, but in a good way, made his whole body jerk against her, earn a raw, throaty chuckle he'd never heard before.

"Glorious boy, leave me with memories I can't forget," she growled and he might have been intimidated were this not Peggy, who he worshipped and adored. In the light bleeding in the from the morning outside, he could relish her expression as she sat up, settling her weight atop him, trail his gaze over the glorious shape of her. His eyes widened at the shadows of dusky bruises all over her and grunted at the hard slap of her strong hands to his ribs.

"I hurt you."

The scoff made him smile despite himself, big hands tracing the marks and realizing her soft moan wasn't pain at all.

"You'll have to try harder than that, Steve."

Again he grunted as she shifted to grab at his ruined hair, jerking her weight against him hard enough to make the cot creak for mercy. He didn't fight being shoved prone again, Peggy looming over him like a dark goddess, all half-crazy need, teeth bared, voice a low rasp. 

"Leave me sore. I want to burn with you, limp for days, feel you even when you're not inside me." Again she jerked her hips against him, torturing the pillar of fire between his legs and making him groan piteously. "I'll have to act as though everything is status quo, and try not to blush or brag."

He may not hold her bruises or bites or furrowed scratches, but her words burned him like fire. With a snarl, his competitive nature roared up, a hard fist in the coveted dark hair yanking Peggy down beside him so he could bury his face in her throat.

"Get that damn French letter or I'm gonna do somethin' stupid."

Writhing against him, Peggy reached out blindly in search of the familiar little packets, completely distracted and desperate, Steve's hot skin and wandering hands and mouth only making the task harder.

"Can't have that," she tried to sound mockingly serious and proper but it failed spectacularly given the circumstances. 

"Stop squirmin'," Steve couldn't believe that he'd growled that like some sorta gorilla, but it only made Peggy chuckle, her voice getting high and breathy again in a way that made his skin prickle and his balls twitch. Not like the brainless bimbos that never impressed him with feigned act of it all, but like she was losing her iron control. With shaking hands, he tore one damn rubber into pieces, smacking Peggy's lush rear when she laughed at him, and managed on the second try, distantly glad she'd managed to collect a decent collection of the damn things. Having gotten the hang of them with recent practice, he started rolling it on, hissing at how sensitive he'd gotten, pulling Peggy into a kiss, swallowing the soundtrack between them. "Want you, love you."

"Love you," Peggy echoed back tossing her thigh over his hip when that hand moved to pull her close, canting her hips so that he could find his way home once again.

"Goddammit! Has anyone seen Rogers? That ape has ruined me!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that I've scared these two half to death....

The lovers froze mid-coitus at the irritated shout of Steve's show manager and gasped as one at the answering drawl of Colonel Chester Phillips… right at the doorway of Peggy's tent.

"Gentlemen, it's been a chaotic couple of days. Let me get you a decent cup of coffee and I'm sure that Captain Rogers will show."

For a long moment, neither moved, still and panting, swearing silently that there was some sort of dry reprimand in the man's voice. Footfalls and muttering voices faded and Steve made a choice then and there that Peggy was going to be more important than those government fools. Growling softly, he rolled her under his weight, bracing a hand on the ground as they nearly fell off of the cot, sliding fully into her heat, he swallowed up her surprised moan, echoed it back, rocked into her body, trying to silently convey everything he was thinking and feeling. 

It felt like some sort of goodbye, a bittersweet celebration of this one night and morning, something that they might never capture again and he wanted to imprint this togetherness into his very cells even more completely than the serum had.

Steve stroked his open hand over Peggy's back and the swell of her breasts as the shape of the cot forced them to their sides and his hips kept rhythm despite the shift. Keening and moaning, Peggy jammed her face into the crook of his neck, half smothering herself in the bedding while he hugged her skull and jammed his own fist in his mouth to stifle his animal sounds.

Around them, camp was coming to life, leaning urgency and an illicit thrill to their rushed lovemaking.

In the seemingly endless months of war to come, Steve would be comforted and tormented by the sounds of his beloved's voice as they moved together, as would Peggy. Danger and separation loomed ahead of them and any sort of stability or safety was a fickle thing, but they would always have this.

Huffing like a diesel engine, Steve felt that twisting ecstasy coiling up and he gripped Peggy's backside to grind her pelvis into his, desperate to feel the hard grip of her body around him one last time. Both of them sounded like they were halfway to pain, scrabbling for the brass ring, clutching hard at one another. Some little corner of Steve's brain kept her tight to him even as the dam burst, grinding until she whined and broke around him.

They were ruined, wrecked, left for dead. Sprawling out on his back, Steve scowled in overstimulation as his softening dick slid loose and Peggy grumbled wearily as she sprawled boneless over his mass.

"You are some kinda dame," he murmured affectionately and drank up Peggy's half-delirious chortle.

"I would say you're rather smashing yourself, mate."

Their laughter was as evocative as their cooling bodies, the tender brush of fingertips over their bare, sweating skins. The chill of the day was creeping in, the inevitability of their being torn apart.

"I wanna stay."

"I know. As do I, my darling. But the world waits for no one and they'll find you soon."

"Ugh. Kiss me quick."

That almost derailed them again, but Steve pulled away with a groan and Peggy reluctantly let him up to grab for his clothes. They were both a sloppy mess, but Steve just grabbed his undershirt and mopped up, doing his best to ignore Peggy's low moan when he rubbed the shirt over her belly and between her shaking thighs.

"Tease," she complained affectionately and mock glared as he nipped her hipbone.

Feeling both exhilarated and wobbly-kneed-- and wasn't that a wacky flashback to his past-- Steve yanked on his khakis and raked fingers through his wrecked hair. There was nothin' to be done for his bare feet because he'd rather go face the music like that then climb back into his hideous boots and socks. Peggy watched him quietly, warm and loose in the blankets, her naked shape so much more curvaceous and wonderful than he could have imagined.

"Love you," he murmured into their kiss, leaning over her and soaking up her hands on his face and neck.

"Love you too. Now get."

A last look back almost ruined him, but Steve forced himself to duty and peeked through the tent flap before slipping away to tell the g-men where they could go and how to do it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in London, the lovers try and behave...

Unhappy, but understanding, Steve found himself swept up in the mass exodus of the camp back to London, as he'd happily burned his bridges with the USO show and was suddenly of value to the SSR and the war effort as more than a dancing monkey. It was both vindicating and chapped his hide.

Anyone with a brain in his basket knew that real war would sell more bonds anyway, once the government boys cleaned it up as best they could. It was an ugly reality, but no less true for that.

Caught up in getting to know Bucky again, and all these new guys suddenly treating him with respect, Steve lost track of his busy lover in the crush. Too busy to really dwell on it, he persevered, except when he slept, haunted by explosions and blue fire and the silk of Peggy's skin.

Seeing her in the SSR sections of the London deep-level shelters was a visceral shock like a sharp, hard shiver from kicks to crown. The blaze of intensity in those dark eyes burned him, shook him, made it hard to concentrate on the maps, wrack his serum-enhanced memory for every scrap of information.

_"I just got a quick look."_

_"Well, nobody's perfect."_

Despite his feeling like she was deliberately, even teasingly busting his nuts-- and he didn't seem to mind as much as perhaps he should-- Steve mostly played along. Because, while she made him crazy, she also made him better.

Sometimes a beginning was a simple thing, a puzzle piece clicking into place to help complete the larger picture. From the scruffy tatters of the 107th, Steve found the men who would do at least as much to immortalize him as he did himself. For the sake of the future, for revenge, for comradery and beer and gallows humor, they agreed to follow him into madness and to keep chopping off the serpent's heads. Except for Bucky who reined him in just like he'd done since they were kids. Bucky didn't give a damn about Captain America or the insanity he'd signed on for. Bucky would follow the little guy from the mean streets of Brooklyn.

Then Peggy walked in and the whole place went quiet for a long moment. She was a curvaceous stripe of hot, sinful red against the smoky dimness of the bar and Steve felt his mouth fill with saliva and the rest of his body do other, far dirtier things.

Somehow his mouth behaved itself, their exchange about testing out some of Stark's equipment almost businesslike. When all he could think, loud enough between his ears and arrowing down his spine was lusty, adoring things that he wanted to say, to lick across her skin. 

_"The right partner."_

In her, he was a hundred feet tall and invincible.


	9. Chapter 9

That night in London was an education in the clandestine that Steve could have done without. In a city blacked out for safety and saddled with a bunch of drunken idiots that he felt he needed to keep safe and get back to their temporary barracks, he never did get a chance to find Peggy, to reenact that first night that had branded him for life. He never did get a chance to touch that enticing red fabric, to strip it from her body and…

It really wasn't fair.

After a frustrating and fruitless search for his lover that was bound to earn him a reputation as some sort of desperate pervert among the WACs, Steve was forced to find a quiet bathroom and jerk himself off in order to relax enough to doze off for a couple hours in a corner of the command center. Waking up with a faintly smirking Colonel Phillips standing over him was not one of Steve's better moments.

"Have trouble findin' a cot there, son?"

He had no idea….

By the time Steve found a place to clean up and get into a fresh uniform, he was near to running late and his brain and body no calmer for the time passing.

Peggy truly made him crazy.

Crazy enough that he missed the overtures of the blonde secretary until suddenly he became a nervous, stammering idiot and she had his tie like a leash and her tongue was in his mouth and Peggy's icy sharp snap of voice to get his attention was like a slap to the head. It was a thousand times worse than bein' that five and two bits shrimp again, because at least then he'd had some backbone.

Then his stupid, fool temper turned him snarly and accusing and Peggy rightly sneered at him that he didn't know a bloody thing about women.

The four bullets that left his new shield ringing seemed a small price to pay. 

Though later, he was able to track her down and corner her into an empty storeroom to renew his memories of their lovemaking and mix the loose surrender in her voice into the tinny ring of vibranium in his ears.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes and an opportunity arises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _a mean street dog wrapped in the softness of a woman._ This may be one of my favorite character descriptions. Ever.

Peggy was a product of the rough streets of London, a mean street dog wrapped in the softness of a woman. She was an intelligent, deadly combination of traits and abhorred weakness, particularly in herself.

None of that seemed to make a difference when it came to Steve Rogers.

Particularly at night or when she was feeling overly weary; and as the war dragged on, weariness was a constant enemy. Those were the times her traitorous mind joined forces with the dull ache of need that seemed her constant companion now. That blissful night, and the follow up surprise attack in the SSR tunnels from that sneaky, fool boy who caught her eye from the start, had utterly ruined her. No not ruined-- certainly not in a bad way-- just altered something fundamental and visceral and too raw to find proper words for. While no blushing virgin, Peggy had little in her life to compare the unexpected bond forged through circumstance with America's Golden Boy.

The irony did not escape her.

November fell to December and winter closed in around London and encroached into the theaters of war, making things better in some places and so much worse in others. Day after day, Peggy poured over maps and incoming intelligence, included and yet apart; a state she knew well, resenting the familiar pong of it, but never resigned to it, though every soldier had to choose their battles. 

Luckily for her, Chester Phillips was more than just a talented CO, but also an excellent judge of people and assets. There was a reason the SSR revolved around him and those he kept close. Even that ruddy twit of a secretary of his had a deft touch with the crowds of mostly men centered in the London deep-level shelters. Peggy could only remember her slobbering all over Steve and the red-eyed surge of jealously that made her feel like a complete fool to be so obsessed with the man. No matter that he'd apologized with an effectiveness that still threatened to make her blush more than a month later. His murmurs of love and lust haunted her, the touch of his hands and the heat of his skin, burning warmer than any normal man.

Peggy desperately wanted him back to feel him again, just as much as she feared being relegated to nothing more than 'The Captain's Dame'. Thusly torn, she ducked out of a chance to travel to see the Howling Commandos-- as they'd taken to calling themselves-- regretting it almost instantly, but refusing to back down from even her own mistakes.

Two days after Christmas, the shelters were still quiet and Peggy unexpectedly found herself alone with Phillips, who spoke up in his abrupt, gruff way, not looking up from the files he was perusing. "If I were to throw you out for a while, Agent Carter, would you be smart enough to take advantage?"

Shifting his head to gesture at the huge map table, he tossed a set of keys to slide unerringly over to the little wooden flag marked 'HC' in red and blue. Yes, Peggy was still reluctant, still horrified by the idea of being relegated to little more than Captain America's love interest, but that didn’t mean that she still didn't love the big idiot and desperately want to see him again. Grabbing the battered keys, she let a faint smile crawl over her face to tamp down the surge of lust and excitement.

"Yes sir, I do believe I would."

"Good, there's a convoy leaving in a few hours. Don't get yourself killed."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy heads for the front and the chaos there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I am not a Brit, I do hope I got my British-isms right! Oh, and for my fellow Americans or those not in the know? A lorry is a truck of the 'shift cargo' type. You're welcome.
> 
> Also, I have to confess that every time I typed out 'Thompson', I wanted to laugh. f you've not seen the Agent Carter mini-series, you won't get it. And SHAME ON YOU.
> 
> Carry on!

After grabbing the trio of folders Phillips held up-- still without actually looking up from his work-- Peggy quickly retreated to her small spot in the curved-walled tunnels that served as home, breaking down her precious oversized cot and packing all her sparse belongings in her battered service trunk. Once back in the shelter in the days to come, she would worry about finding a place to sleep again. There was a side trip to stores to requisition proper winter gear and a standard M1928A1 Thompson submachine gun and ammo for both it and her trusty little Walther PPK she carried everywhere. Part of her considered going to see Howard but decided against the drama. If there were objects to go to the boys in the field, Phillips would have them packed already. In fact, when she found the big lorry that matched the numbers on her keys, she was pleased to see a hulking, reliable Bedford QLD, its iron-paneled cargo box keeping the mysterious contents safe from small arms fire and the unpredictable elements.

With a quick, brutal effort, Peggy wrestled her trunk up the towering wheel and into the passenger seat before walking around the enormous 3-ton lorry to look it over. Satisfied with its condition and the neatly stashed cans of petrol at the back gate while ignoring the dim shapes of stacked crates in all shapes and sizes nearly to the roof, she climbed the driver's side wheel and took command of the vehicle. Perusing the trio of folders, she noted each containing a different series of orders and clearances, one for her, one for the vehicle and one for the long list of the crated and bottled goods in the cargo box. Satisfied, Peggy made quick work of absorbing the information and clicked the key over to get the massive engine up and roaring. She was pleased that the engine didn't hesitate, belching smoke and quickly warming, and it's transmission had only a bit of a stickiness to it. Wrestling with a bad transmission or engine on top of the sheer mass of the Bedford would be exhausting. 

With the intent of getting to the dock early to grab a bit of sleep, Peggy slowly maneuvered the lorry though darkened London, finding herself wondering if she would ever see it again lighting up the darkness in all her glory. Some days it was difficult to remember what that had been like. Shaking off the uncharacteristic wool-gathering, she completed her journey to place the Bedford in the lines of vehicles awaiting transport and settled in to snooze. As Phillips had also equipped the Bedford with a proper radio, she could keep track of where she needed to be and grabbed some shuteye as she could.

That radio and the long nap would be a lifesaver as Peggy churned her way through the devastated countryside of once-beautiful France to meet up with the Commandos closer to Zurich. Sneaking along behind Allied lines didn't suit her character, but Peggy was alone and carried potentially lifesaving supplies for her compatriots. So she listened to the constant din of warfare from near and far, the 'rat-a-tat-BOOM' like discordant music, and forced herself to stay on task. Peeling off from the relative safety of the convoy was terrifying, but Peggy Carter had never backed down from a challenge or danger in her life and plowed ahead with her usual bullish determination. The forests closed around her and she slowed to a crawl, straining her ears over the noisy lorry. Finally, the glare of the headlamps through the gloomy forest became a bigger liability than expediency and she brought the lorry to a shuddering halt, letting the quiet close around her.

Actually, the quiet was a little unnerving. 

Resting the Tommy gun across her torso, Peggy sat quietly amidst the trees and the frigid temperatures and did her best to keep her mind clear, dozing shallowly here and there. When the crackle of gunfire burst to life nearby, it was almost a relief from the shallow, constant tension. Flares of light lit the trees crazily, bullets and headlamps in accompaniment to the shouts of men and the roar of engines.

The first motorcycle flew over the rise in front of her, slaloming on the muddy, icy trace and Peggy squinted to prevent herself from being dazzled by the headlamp, bright in the darkness even with a cloth mask dulling the glare. A round , flattish object flashing red, white and blue screamed out of nowhere, nearly taking off the head of the passenger in the sidecar, and Peggy realized with a start that it was Steve's shield. He was using it as a weapon now? While the thought was fascinating, her body was already in motion, the truck roaring to life, the motorcycle swerving in alarm by the unexpected presence of the much larger vehicle. 

Peggy never even slowed down as the Bedford sideswiped the Nazi motorcycle into a large stone outcropping, metal screeching against metal, a man's scream cut off violently. The wide-eyed horror on the faces of the small Kubelwagen flashed by as quickly as the red of their swastikas as the little utility vehicle was irreparably mauled by the big British lorry. Though Peggy was not pleased by the violent yank at the front axle that translated up the steering column hard enough to make her arms ache.

"Bloody thing, behave," she snarled and yanked the big, flat face of the lorry back around just in time for a fleeing Panzerspahwagen to plow into it. A spray of artillery shattered the windshield and the lorry was brought to a halt by the crash, but Jolly Old England won the day with sheer mass. "Huzzah," Peggy muttered sarcastically and shook off the pain of the impact to smash out the windshield with the butt of the Thompson and shoot the lone survivor of the crash as he tried to flail away from the armored car.

When there was no return fire from her spray of bullets, Peggy stepped out onto the wheel well, keeping most of her body protected by the open door, and watched the Howling Commandos arrive.

"Not Hydra? A shame that," she called out loudly, the smirk obvious in her tone and the muzzle of her still-smoking submachine gun pointed upward. The arriving force gawked satisfyingly and she gestured magnanimously to the bulk of the lorry at her back. "Looks like I'm not too late for the festivities after all. Happy Christmas, boys! Courtesy of the SSR."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy begins to find her place among the Howling Commandos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lot of the interactions between Peggy and Commandos-- particularly Dugan-- came directly from the Agent Carter series when Dugan told Peggy, "you used to be fun." That got me curious and was definitely one of the drives behind this growing saga!

It took a real effort of will for Steve to hang back until he was certain the mini-raid was over and his team was as safe as possible. In the meantime, half of the Commandos were clustered around the big truck and the wreckage in a semi-permanent French kiss with its flat face. The guys finally pried off the Nazi armored car with a shriek of metal and enthusiastically flipped it into the trees to clear the narrow, rutted track. Peggy's rear end was hanging out of the truck's open door and Steve didn't fight the ogle as he stepped close, eye to eye with her muddy boots.

"Agent Carter," he greeted her dryly and drank in the grin she flashed as she finished up brushing glass from the driver's seat.

"Captain Rogers. Don't you look… festive." Crouching on the wheel well over the enormous tire, she reached out and plucked a chunk of greenery from the straps of his uniform and tossed it aside. "At least the tights seem to have some armor value now."

Unutterably glad to have her teasing him again, Steve grinned like an idiot, wanting to kiss her so badly that it made him lightheaded. "Warmer too."

"Give it a shot, Carter," Gabe called out from beneath the Bedford's open nose plate. "The radiator's hosed, but I think we can get her to camp for some repairs."

Patting Steve's cheek, Peggy threw herself into the driver's seat and cranked the key, the Bedford roaring to life. A cheer rose up and several of the Commandos clambered onto the wheel wells to hitch a ride, Steve included. With the windshield out anyway, Peggy had rolled down the side window so he could snake an arm in, ostensibly for a secure grip, but he was happy to rub his gloved hand against her knee and thigh, drinking up the flex of muscles as she drove.

"So, you're the codebreaker?" Steve asked over the noise and Peggy's smirk deepened even as she wrestled the huge truck.

"Indeed, Captain. You didn't think I was just another pretty face, now did you?"

"Damn good thing too!" Dugan called from the other side of the cab. "Hydra's gettin' smarter. Or at least more creative. We've got some of it, but location only and no timeline. Don't want to crash the party too early!"

Tucked into a protective half-hill, the Howling Commandos' camp was awash with activity and Peggy was only too willing to toss the keys to Dugan and grab her trunk to slide it across her body and the steering wheel so that Steve could effortlessly hop to the ground with its weight tucked under one arm. She did, however, ignore his offered helping hand, not trusting herself to touch, no matter how platonically. While the Commandos eagerly stripped the truck to its iron plates, she ordered one of the boys to retrieve the bulky radio from the truck and bring it to whatever passed for a command tent amidst the ruffians. The small tent wasn't much, but it was warmer than the snowy forest and was lit more effectively than vehicle headlights. 

Despite being exhausted, Peggy immediately began pouring over the piles of notes spread over a rough workspace while the Commandos got her better radio set up to replace theirs. The excitement outside grew and grew as they got into the crates and boxes and canvas bundles. Within the hour, Peggy had begun to make a dent in the notes and by interviewing those that had heard the radio messages in the first place. Even better, the boys had brewed up fresh coffee from the lorry's stores and made sandwiches and, amusingly enough, macaroni and cheese.

Ten hours later, the sun was warm and thin above the trees and the code had let up enough of its secrets to have the Howling Commandos in motion. They'd policed themselves into generally not overindulging in the crates of bourbon and port stashed amidst more serious supplies, but a few of them were in for an ugly morning. Peggy rather felt like she'd been drinking, nearly delirious on her feet from lack of sleep, eyes burning and feet unsure. Not that any of them could really tell, aside from her bloodshot eyes.

Camp was collapsing with practiced ease, bundles and crates vanishing into the baker's dozen vehicles waiting to move out. It was only then that Peggy found herself at a loss of what to do, her rhythms not in sync with these soldiers who had been in one another's pockets for time enough to gain this sort of comfortable familiarity.

"Time for some shuteye, Agent," Steve suddenly spoke up, one big hand on her back, pushing her at the Bedford. "We've rigged up some rack space in the back for our few wounded and to start getting everyone caught up on some sleep. You just made a hell of a drive singlehandedly, and I haven't slept in the better part of a week, so we're up first."

"Nearly a week?" She parroted back, grateful that his words would alleviate any chance of favoritism or perceived weakness in her. 

"Yeah, turns out I can push myself pretty damn hard if I want to, but the crash is ugly. So, you're stuck with me for awhile."

"Well, at least you'll keep me warm, I suppose."

The cluster of chuckles around them were surprisingly gentle.


	13. Chapter 13

Peggy had learned to sleep anywhere long before war was truly at her doorstep; though in Europe it had been decades since war had been far from anyone's mind. That said, the rough, jarring ride in the back of the Bedford would have been mostly miserable had it not been for her own personal mattress. He'd even been kind enough to strip to an admittedly soiled undershirt so that she didn't have to deal with all the straps and buckles and layers of armor and warmth wrapped thickly around him. Not to mention the semi-rigid star over his breastbone.

Frankly, Peggy was happy to ignore the stink of Steve to cuddle with him.

Not that there was much of a choice in the small nest amid wooden crates, padded with what she suspected was a slightly damp tent and some battered blankets. Another blanket acted as curtain, holding in their combined body heat and providing the luxury of some small privacy. Some discrete change in the movement and sounds of the caravan woke Peggy and she lay silent against Steve's warmth, getting an instinctive feel for her surroundings.

"We're almost there," she murmured quietly and was delighted when his thick arms wound snugly around her.

"It's sounds that way, yeah. C'mere."

Just like that first night, they kissed in the blackness surrounding them, night having clearly fallen at some point while they slept. Neither gave a damn about being unshowered, unshaven, teeth furry, clothes muddy and stinking. They were together and alive and that was all that mattered.

"I've missed you," Steve whispered into her kisses, drank up the feline curve of smile against his lips.

"I've missed you as well. Surely you don't think I make special deliveries to anyone else, now do you?"

"Tease."

"Perhaps… oh…"

There was nothing else in the world Steve got a bigger thrill out of than that soft note of need, earned by one of his hands skimming over her thick leather jacket to that fine ass and raising a knee up between her thighs. Pressing her against his thick leg also ground her hipbone into the hard shaft of his own need trapped in the armored pants. Without hesitation, Peggy rolled her hips, earning her own note of need from her lover, a clench of those unnaturally strong fingers on her arse.

"Gently, darling."

"S… sorry."

"It's all right. I look forward to bearing a few bruises back to London."

Grinning ferally, she drank up their mutual moans as the lorry rumbled into what sounded like a larger camp and they reluctantly accepted that their tenuous alone time was over.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commandos start to settle into camp life.

As Peggy had done no more than remove her winter hat before taking welcome advantage of the warm, firm terrain of Steve's body, she easily slithered out of the small space and shoved in the bulky pile of the distinctive suit he'd stripped off. Before the truck even came to a halt, they both swung down to the ground and set off towards the nearby command tent, all business. Almost immediately, both were caught up in tactics and plans and codes and meetings both specialized and general.

Darkness had faded to daylight and back to darkness again before Peggy could no long deny that the coffee was making her jittery while simultaneously losing its effectiveness. That many of the soldiers looked clean and rested and the handful of bloody brass like they'd just stepped from a recruitment poster did not improve her nerves one whit. Her savior arrived in a form unexpected, his scruffy face impassive, freshly-washed hair holding fading snowflakes.

"Beggin' your pardon, sirs, but Captain Rogers is insistent that his team gets in some R&R."

Some pinch-faced lieutenant colonel whose name Peggy had long forgotten gave both Barnes and herself a sharp look. "You're one of Rogers'?"

Brutally choking the tickle of hysterical laughter into a light cough, Peggy managed to speak in a mostly normal tone. "Codebreaker, sir. SSR."

"Oh. Well, dismissed then."

"Thank you, sir."

"You ready to get out of that uniform?" Barnes asked casually as she grabbed her gun and coat and the small group of brass and sundry went silent, prompting Bucky to roll his eyes at Peggy's raised brow. "A shower, Agent Carter. Wouldja like one? Some of the guys are holdin' 'em empty for ya."

Ducking past where he held back the tent flap, she spoke loudly enough for her voice to carry back. "Yes, that would be welcome, thank you, Sergeant."

They walked in a strangely comfortable quiet, just two soldiers in the snow with deadly SMGs hanging across their torsos in reminder of the war that echoed across the distant countryside. A pair of figures melted away as they approached and Bucky gestured into the ubiquitous tent. "Your kit's in the corner, we salvaged it from the Bedford. Take your time, I don't have any place to be."

Nodding, Peggy found the padlock untampered with and opened the trunk to rifle through her things for cleans. Thankfully, she'd managed to get her towels back from the SSR laundry last round and grabbed those, a half-used bar of rough soap and a heavy tin of baking soda. With a look at where Barnes stood in the doorway with his back to her, Peggy sighed out the shreds of her knee-jerk sense of propriety and stepped into the hanging plastic curtains that kept water and the faint heat contained. Even stripping naked was a relief and she paused to rub the worst of the mess off of her boots with the filthy trousers, dumping in a few heavy pinches of the baking soda to fumigate the interiors a bit. Those socks would need to be cremated.

Silently thanking her practical relations gone before, Peggy rubbed a handful of baking soda into her lank tresses and relished the amazing cleanliness the stuff left behind. There was little cleaning baking soda or vinegar couldn't do and she knew it. That done, she worked her way down, perversely wishing it was Steve close by and not his best friend. Some of the scrubbing up was enough to make her hiss through her teeth with overstimulation and marvel what a livewire she'd become.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An inevitable conversation.
> 
>  
> 
> And the author trying to make peace with a character not well liked by said author.

"He's nuts about you, ya know."

Freezing mid-toweling off with water droplets trickling down her now-chilly skin, Peggy swallowed hard. She could only assume that Barnes had spoken with an assurance of no ears close by.

"Good. The feelings are mutual."

The very blasé, conversational tone of their voices was almost humorous.

"Good. You better be serious, crazy lady, because I'm not exaggeratin', he's really nuts about you. Never seen the likes in the stunted idiot. Lettin' himself be a lab rat, fallin' in love in the middle of this stupid fucking war. Sorry, I just… worry."

Maybe it was the blindness of the curtain between them that forced the words from him, maybe it was exhaustion or desperation or how much he adored his best friend, a man who must be hard to know now. Peggy could empathize with that to an extent, remembering Steve as she had met him.

"Did Steve tell you about the flagpole challenge?"

Clearly not expecting her question, Barnes responded with an eloquent, "huh?"

Scandalously forgoing no more skivvies than a utilitarian pair of pants under her trousers, Peggy spoke up again, figuring honesty was the best policy here. "At Fort Lehigh, during basic training for the Project Rebirth hopefuls."

"Yeah, now that I think about it, he mentioned droppin' the pole instead of tryin' to climb it."

"Exactly. I can assure you, Sergeant Barnes, that was when I started to lose my heart, despite my own best interests. When the fool jumped on the dummy grenade, it was far too late for me."

Dressed except for bare feet, Peggy stepped around the curtain to catch Bucky with his head half turned, expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded even as she sat on her trunk to pull on her last pair of decent socks and make a faintly disgusted face before doing the same with the battered boots.

"I've no interest in Captain America," the faint sneer in her voice was subtle, but it was there nonetheless, "I can only imagine the hell I'd be put through should my… interest be known to the outside world. Just Ste…"

Abruptly, Bucky's body language went stiff, almost threatening. "Gonna be a few minutes, fellas."

Voices complained as Peggy yanked her bootlaces snug and pulled on coat and hat before collecting her gun and slamming the trunk closed to drag it across the shower tent floor.

"Give the lady a break, she's… oh. She's done. Have at, guys. Need a hand, Agent?"

Seeing that he'd clearly gotten more sleep than she, Peggy allowed him to collect the trunk and they trekked off as though they hadn't just had a very private, important conversation. Soon enough the hulking shape of the Bedford rose out of the darkness and Bucky roughly pounded on the backdoors. "Get up, dumbass. You ain't special enough to bunk alone!"

Propping the trunk on its end, he leaned back as the door suddenly burst open. "Goddammit, Bucky, I swear… Peggy."

From playful irritation to hushed reverence in one word and it made Peggy flush with pleasure in the concealing darkness. The small light from an electric torch bled out from within the lorry's cargo box, showing one large hand reaching down in silent offer. Bracing her foot on the heavy trailer hook, no easy task with the ruddy thing nearly at waist level, Peggy grabbed Steve's hand and he effortlessly hauled her up beside him before grabbing the trunk from Bucky.

"Thanks, Buck."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And Happy New Year."

"You too."


	16. Chapter 16

Peggy held her tongue to help preserve whatever anonymity she might have at the moment. The less anyone knew their exact whereabouts in camp, the longer they might have to be alone. Speaking of which…

The moment Steve latched the door shut tightly, she repeated that first night, climbing his glorious body to again familiarize herself with the feel of him, the taste of his mouth and the touch of his hands. "I've missed you."

"Me too, Doll, me too. Come get some sleep."

Aghast, Peggy yanked her head back hard enough to nearly crack her head on the ceiling and glowered at Steve's sweetly innocent expression. One that held for only a moment before he dissolved into chuckling.

"Cheeky sod," she growled and Steve burst out into a belly laugh.

"God, you're gorgeous when you're angry. You're always gorgeous, but when you get fired up? You are somethin' else."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Liar."

While they bantered, Steve crouched, effortlessly cradling her weight, and crawled into the cozy space he'd rigged up for them.

"It's not the Ritz, but I figured you'd want warmth more than somethin' swanky."

There was a lilt of question, a hint of nervousness that was sweet even as he laid her out onto a soft and not uncomfortably lumpy surface. Big sheets of green canvas had been rigged like an oversized child's blanket fort to trap in their body heat and the electric torch gleamed next to an open book, a thermos, a pile of field rations and an open gear pouch with the familiar foil packets. When Peggy raised an eyebrow at Steve, he flushed pink and she bit her lip to keep from smiling widely.

"I missed you, not just 'cause of that."

Now she did laugh, a rich peal of adoring amusement that made Steve groan and collapse into her smaller body where she hugged him close. "Darling man, you are just too much." Clamping her loose grip around his muscled ass tightly enough to make him hiss and press closer, she murmured lowly in between kisses to his closer ear. "I missed you too, and not just because of that."

Huffing with wry amusement, Steve curled damp tendrils of dark hair around his fingertips to anchor Peggy to the makeshift bed so that he could prop himself on his elbows and just really look at her for a long moment. The sweet, intent, sensual regard was enough for her to fight squirming with a delicious mix of delight and embarrassment. Steve just watched her facial expressions flicker, drank up the way she looked so different, scrubbed completely clean of the colors that defined her, the red of her mouth gone, the even tone of her skin warmer somehow, left natural. Then they were both grinning like lovesick idiots, their chuckling warming the space as much as their bodies, and fell into slow, drugging kisses.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

With Steve clad in only a t-shirt and loose trousers, Peggy could easily start in on enjoying the sheer physical presence of him and how he made her feel. With his exploring mouth on her throat, it was fairly obvious there was no rush, despite their long separation. It took some concentration to fight down her natural tendency to bull forward, grab every experience like a starving dog after a meal, but instead calm herself and just enjoy the moment. Feeling the gradual surrender in her solid, perpetually energetic body, Steve sighed happily into her skin.

"You make me feel ten feet tall and invincible."

"Are you certain that's not the serum, darling?"

Again wryly amused with his lover, Steve didn't leave off worshipping at her neck, all soft mouth and tongue, with just the random rasp of sharp teeth against her silky skin. Shifting his heavy frame downward, Steve got his knees up, Peggy's thighs propped up on his, her female heat tormenting him unmercifully. Still giddily thrilled to have the freedom to do so, he sat up to run big hands over her generous curves and watch her hot, hooded gaze. He worked at her shirt buttons, surprised and delighted to find her scandalously bare beneath.

"So, guys talk, y'know?"

"Yes, I suspect they would think we women would be so shocked… oh, Steve…"

It wasn't that he didn't like hearing Peggy talk, he did, but making her lose her focus was enormously satisfying. Lord knew she derailed him often enough. Continuing to trail his mouth after his busy hands, Steve nuzzled collarbones and the heavy curves of her breasts.

"And they get a guy curious with all that talk."

Fully flicking her uniform shirt open, he shut up for awhile, suckling at her nipples while absently stroking warm skin with his hands. Eventually, he rose back up to kiss her open mouth, swallowing up her small sounds of pleasure.

"Curious?" Peggy finally murmured and Steve grinned as he sat up and made quick work of her trouser buttons, before leaning back on his bare feet and prying off her boots and socks to drop them unceremoniously behind him and stripping her whole lower half in one smooth movement.

"Scoot up a bit," he instructed gently, a big hand in the small of her back helping and a long kiss ample reward for compliance. Then he began working his way back down again, voice quiet and throaty as he spoke between open-mouthed kisses on her flushed skin. "Yeah, see, I got to try some stuff when I was still that scrawny guy back in Brooklyn. Never goin' all the way-- and it was worth waitin' for, if you were gonna ask-- but there's other stuff that's plenty fun too."

By that time in the rambling speech, Steve had reached her navel, teasing his wet tongue into the divot and chuckling at the squirm and the strong hands in his hair tightening.

"Like that?"

"Unnn… yes…"

Making a mental note to explore that reaction more later, Steve twisted to get his shoulders sideways in order to toss her thighs over them, his hands cupping her fine rear, his mouth drifting south to that thatch of dark hair. "Never had the breath to really try this."

Peggy only made an inarticulate sound as he nuzzled into the tender crease of groin and thigh, pushed up her pelvis with effortless strength until he could map out the shape and taste of her.

"Happy New Year," Steve growled and set about seeing how much noise he could wring out of her, sucking and nibbling at the hot wet and relishing the sounds he earned. Again thankful for the freedom to do so, Peggy yanked unmercifully at his hair, raking his scalp until she felt him wince against her but never slowed his loving efforts. It was pooling at the base of her spine, that wracking pleasure ready to tear her apart and she brought up her own hand to try and stifle the racket of sound choking her. Even as the relentless sucking drew the pleasure from her, Steve was yet another shock, his big hand teasing away her own fingers from her clenching teeth so that she could chew at his, whimpering and cursing into his calloused palm as she kicked his shoulders and yanked his hair until the storm passed.

Licking his chops and looking entirely too smug, Steve rearranged her shivering body to lie comfortably so he could hold her and preen. 

"Yeah, definitely more fun with the breath to do it right."

"Idiot," she murmured breathlessly, but it was clearly a compliment.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, we come to the tornado story....

So it went. With the Bedford quite firmly assigned to Agent Margaret Carter of the SSR, no one would touch it and she quickly altered it to her own uses. It was a perfect mobile HQ for the Howling Commandos and they pitched in to modify it to their needs. Between fanning out for strike missions, they stripped enemy vehicles and armored up the huge truck to protect her contents. A pair of light machine guns on makeshift turrets on the cab's roof for the driver to fire resulted in Dugan's uproarious laughter. 

"Makes the damn thing look like the world's ugliest metal cow."

And so the once dignified war lorry became Bessie, the cow. That included dull cow print paint markings of black splotches on the military green, the still-bent bar on the nose painted a dark yellow against the radiator grill now a giant black bovine nose and a 'brand' of 'HC' stamped on the portside rear door. It made Peggy sigh and roll her eyes, but there was no fighting it once the boys got to using the nickname. Thankfully they ran out of 'tinned beef' jokes fairly quickly, at least once she started threatening physical violence. It took another couple of weeks for Steve to stop blushing though. There wasn't a man in the Howling Commandos that hadn't figured them out, but they left off for the most part as they liked their alpha pair too much to do more than rib and catcall a bit here and there.

In the coldest months of winter, Peggy relished being part of the crack force, often foraging outward with them, gun in hand, just another soldier amongst their fellows. She relished it, blossomed in the freedom and danger of it, taught the boys everything she knew, learned from them in return. It took one night of drinking and stories for them to get over her being a woman as she left half of them blushing and half of them howling with laughter. They never excluded her, they gave her space when she needed it, gave her hell as they would one another, relied on her brains and her mean streak constantly. Peggy didn't mind being a mascot of sorts as they didn't pussyfoot around her.

And Bessie was a personal haven she could drag Steve off to whenever she could, ignoring the affectionate jeers of the others. They knew to stay away from the Bedford when either got that look in their eye, because no one wanted to risk getting shot over a juvenile prank.

Their little convoy of trucks ranged all over Europe in those heady, frozen days, grinding down the assets of Johan Schmidt and Hydra. Every vehicle, every weapon and facility destroyed, no matter how big or small, every prisoner freed, all were exhilarating victories for the small, gifted band. The Howling Commandos grew ever more talented with practice, learning to exploit their good equipment, small, mobile numbers and the serum-given talents of the young man that led them.

Steve was glorious to watch, unnaturally fast, strong, accurate and able to pick up skills like a dry sponge in water. No matter how low he might get with what he saw, what he was forced to do to damage Hydra's evil, he had his team and he had Peggy. They would all kick one another's asses and boost one another up as needed, though Peggy certainly had an edge with the boss. Steve would be the first to state that it went both ways.

High on the adrenaline of battle, the Commandos would sit around the campfire and talk about anything and everything. The calendar had only just slid into March and things had been slow for a few days, so the rush felt good and no one objected when Dugan dragged out the stash of booze for a little bit of celebrating. 

"One of these days that's going to run out," Peggy laughed as she hip-checked Gabe out of her way and skirted the flames to hand off the stacked plates to a distracted Steve. Mumbling a thank you, he held both of them, hungrily eyeballing the hot stew and hard biscuits, and Peggy waved away Jacques' effort to shift on the log they had commandeered as bench and backrest. Instead, she merely plunked herself down between Steve's legs and leaned into his thigh to grab her plate and dig in. No one gave them the least bit of notice, even when he absently stroked an adoring hand over her crown before slipping his fingers into her collar to retrieve his utensils where she habitually tucked them into her shirt pocket. It was certainly easier then when he had mess duty and had to carry the things in his trouser pockets where Peggy would sneak a hand in and make him flush and the guys to rib him. 

Port was passed around, tin cups getting a heavy splash before the bottle moved on, Peggy taking a bit of extra because Steve never did, merely stealing a swig of whatever she had. She set the cup in the damp moss exposed by the heat of the fire and finished eating, calmed by the comradery and humor around her as well as her solid lover at her back. 

"C'mon, Peggy," Junior suddenly piped up, "Tell us the tornado story again."

Really, it was rare a week went by before one of them was begging and she rolled her eyes in amused exasperation. "You boys need to get some new stories."

They only collectively laughed and jeered in encouragement. When she set aside her plate and took up the cup, Steve gave her a prod to lean forward so that he could insinuate his body between her and the cold log as proper backrest, a hand quietly possessive on her belly. For her part, Peggy snuggled her shoulders into the shape of him and rested her forearms along his cradling legs as though he were a throne made just for her. Thoughtfully, she reviewed the endless varieties of the completely ridiculous tornado story that her father would make her laugh with as a child and she had now built on with these boys. Fish, frogs, ducks, cows and horses both, and a poor old sheepdog had been abused, but that last one gave her an idea. So, launching into the well-worn rhapsody of the fictional tornado that ravaged the English countryside somewhen back in the twenties, she rambled on, only pausing when Steve stole her cup and chuckled at the sharp elbow she stabbed into his ribs.

"And it tore over Old Man Tucker's midden hill and raced down to suck up the pond, every last drop, before chewing up the whole flock of his wife's prize sheep. But, on a positive note, by the time the storm settled, the whole village had good wool jumpers, already preshrunk and felted, if not a bit damp."

It was a stupid story, but it made the Commandos laugh as hard as her small self had and Peggy grinned in memories old and new. Even Steve chuckled, the vibrations translating from his body to hers. It felt good, his humor and ease, the battle mostly drained from him, his mind present and accounted for. As the group fell to chattering again, Peggy curled up half sideways to tuck her head up under Steve's chin and ended up talking with Jacques in his native French that her grasp of continued to improve with practice.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy's feeling anxious....

It was a nice evening after a ruthless day, but nonetheless in relatively short order, the distracted affection of Steve's big hand stroking over Peggy's back and neck became far more interesting than the casual comradery with the guys. Besides, the faint anxiousness that only his loving could alleviate was nagging her and the night was quiet thus far. Wasting such an opportunity would be a fool's errand and Amanda and Harrison Carter did not raise a fool for a daughter.

"Watches," Peggy murmured suddenly, stretching up to press a kiss to Steve's slightly bristly chin. "I'll get the bed turned down."

"You got it," Steve agreed with barely concealed eagerness as Peggy clambered to her feet and stretched. The guys jeered and laughed as they often did and she casually threw them the two-fingered salute before finding a dark patch of shadow to take care of business. That done, she doused a rag in the wash water and headed for Bessie. If she and her lover were going to get naked anyway-- and wasn't Peggy looking forward to that-- might as well do a quick wipe down. And while ragging off was fine, she really needed to insist they head into one of the semi-permanent camps soon so that everyone could get truly as clean as possible.

Stripping down in the dim, crowded space, Peggy hissed in discomfort with the damp, cold rag on her skin and dove into the thick bedding on her cot. It had long since been rigged into a makeshift four-poster bed of sorts, heavily swathed in the tents that would have been her and Steve's were they outside, and whatever other scraps of material had been scrounged up. Having left the rag draped over the back of the lone chair in the Bedford at the workspace and the torch ablaze, Peggy snuggled into the warming cot and watched through a small gap in the fabric.

Soon enough, Steve climbed in, talking as he began stripping off his winter gear. "Jim or Happy'll wake us for last watch and remind me to smack Bucky tomorrow when I'm not so eager to get in here to you, wontcha?"

"Done and done. Now slow down a bit and give me a show, soldier."

"Naughty," he teased but did as ordered. Yeah, he still had a self-conscious streak, but there wasn't much to it but reflex to it anymore. What guy could keep that up when an amazing, gorgeous dame like Peggy Carter was complimentin' him all the time? Lingering over the straps and buckles before peeling the heavy suit away from the ubiquitous undershirt, Steve happily tossed it to the side, followed by said shirt. Spotting the rag left for him he trailed the damp fabric over his sculpted chest and arms before pulling the button and zipper loose on his pants so he could run the rag over the ridges of abdominals.

"You are delicious," Peggy purred in appreciation and chuckled when Steve shivered abruptly. "And clearly getting cold. Thank you for your indulgence, darling, now come to bed."

Finishing up the stripping and rough cleaning, Steve was only too happy to comply, grinning at Peggy's grumble of protest to the chill on his skin. Not that the cold slowed her down from crawling over him like a hungry cat, her touch intent and rough.

"Love you," Peggy heard herself murmur hoarsely, consumed with wanting him. Steve was only too happy to let her do as she pleased, her powerful body aggressive with his. While Steve chuckled over their mutual fumbling with the rubber-- it had been a long time since that had happened-- he had a feeling she wasn't nearly as amused as he was by the whole operation. Mentioning that was derailed by a swift and bossy impalement, though the quick, hard orgasm she rode him to hardly seemed to calm her. No matter, he was young and virile and would reload soon enough, but that wasn't important right now.

"Pegs, you okay?"

Oddly, she turned her head away, expression conflicted in the bad light from the flashlight, body still locked over his, fingers caressing and raking distractedly over his pectorals. Rather than push, Steve ignored the physical pleasures and instead just gently stroked her arms and legs while she sorted her thoughts. Peggy was not a woman prone to histrionics and if something was bothering her, it would be important.

"I feel… anxious," she finally said roughly, as though the words were hard to say. "As though something were going to happen, but not with negative connotations. I confess I can't quite figure it out and it's making me a bit mental. Do you ever feel that way?"

"Sure, but not for awhile."

"How's that?"

"Well, I have you. Hard to not be confident as hell with you at my back and in my heart."


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love, teasing and banter. What makes us all love Peggy and Steve.

Ugh, they were a sloppy mess, but Peggy hardly cared, squirming around until she was emptied and willingly accepting the offer of succor in Steve's touch. The itchy, anxious energy bothering her was still there, but his presence as least as much as his lovemaking soothed her.

"I'm sorry to be such a needy female."

The grumble of annoyance in her voice made him laugh, cuddling her to his chest.

"Look, I don't gotta lot of experience with dames, as you well know, Agent Sassy, but I traveled around with a whole damn lot of them for a long time and I have to say that you are the least troublesome female on the planet, Peggy. I'm happy for you to take a day and just grumble at me like I'm a regular guy. Though I gotta say I'm not lookin' forward to you bein' mad at me someday."

And wasn't this one of the things Peggy loved him for, the acceptance of who she was without pretense or expectations. Just as she accepted that sometimes he was insecure or in high temper.

"You say that as though you're certain that you'll anger me someday."

"Hey, I'm a guy, I hear it's inevitable."

Stretching out atop him--possibly her favorite place in all the world-- Peggy chuckled and stroked the skin over his powerful heart. "Perhaps it is, but I'll love you anyways, my dear."

"Me too, Peggy, me too."

Unable to resist teasing, she quipped in all false uppity temper, "are you claiming that I'll annoy you one day?"

When once her teasing him might have provoked wide eyes and a stammered apology, there was no fooling him now, he knew her too well. Growling and grabbing, he attacked her with sensual intent, drinking up her squealing laugh and playful swatting at his head.

"I'll show you annoying!"

Outside, their comrades exchanged wry looks at the familiar muffled sounds from the big truck, pleased and a bit jealous as always.

Around them, the horrors of war still lurked in the darkness and more uncertain days awaited the lovers. But for now, they had one another and love between them.

And it would always be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! See you very soon for Part 2: Behind By a Bullet.


End file.
